Blood Secrets: Fallen Motorcycle Club Read online

“Good enough.” The full color details weren’t something I was going to share with my brothers. “I’m keeping her.”

  “What about her friend? He’s still fucking up one of the guest rooms.”

  “Once it’s out of his system, throw him in rehab. Emily told me more about him last night and he might be a half-decent guy if we can get him clean.” Plus, she’d be happier to know he was on the right path.

  “What do you care about getting him clean?”

  “I don’t,” I admitted. “I care about her.”

  Jackson nodded. “I’m going to get a drink. You want?”

  “Whiskey.”

  He crossed the room and picked up a bottle from the bar, splashing a little in a tumbler for me. Carrying it back, he handed it to me and I drained it. The burn helped focus my mind. I had to wait until the girl upstairs was ready for me. Charging up there like a raging bull wasn’t going to make this any easier on her.

  A few minutes later, I heard a door open and close, then she walked down the steps. She was more beautiful than the first time I’d seen her, all golden skin and long, wavy hair. Knowing her now—the sly, clever parts of her—made me want her even more. Like a lion stalking his mate, I followed her with my eyes as she descended. When she spotted me on the couch, her eyes welled with tears.

  Just like that, I was up and moving to her. I picked her up before she could step off the last stair.

  “It’s going to be okay, Emmy.”

  “Rosaline is my biological mother,” she said, sobbing into my shoulder. The hot wetness of her tears on my shirt shredded me. “I didn’t know. I was right there with her and I didn’t know.”

  “She’ll understand,” I promised, rubbing her back. “There’s no way you could have known. I’ll bring her here for you. You can spend as much time as you want getting to know her.”

  “But what about my mom? My mom who died? I loved her.”

  “I know, baby. You can love both of them.”

  “I feel so torn,” she said, her shudders slowing. She burrowed deeper into my arms without restraint and I carried her to the couch, sinking down with her in my lap. She nuzzled against me and I shot a glare at some prospects who’d wandered in. Wide-eyed, they headed for the game room, leaving us alone in the lounge.

  “Why?”

  “I’ve always been alone, Flash. No one ever really loved me for me, except my parents who died before I really knew what it meant to have a family. Now I might have another mother, who your father is telling me loved me just as much. I don’t know what do to with that.”

  “The only thing you can. Stay here and let us decide how to deal with Manuel.” I wasn’t letting her within one hundred miles of the man.

  “What if they decide to give me to him?”

  “They won’t. We’re talking about it tonight, but it’s a done deal.”

  “Why? They don’t owe me anything.”

  “Because I claimed you,” I told her, and her eyes went wide. “From the first day I spent with you, I knew you were it for me. You’re one of us now and every man here will die to protect you.”

  “I don’t want anyone else to die for me.”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her that someone always dies in wars like this. The only question was whether the first volley would come from our side or theirs.

  A few hours later, I got my answer.

  Emily was eating a waffle and talking to my mother when I heard the pounding on the door. Jackson went to answer it, his face twisted with confusion. Most people who have cause to visit during the day just walk in. Looking through the window, confusion turned to rage. He flung it open.

  “What the fuck?” he roared, grabbing the body that fell forward into his arms. It was a mess of entrails and blood that spilled over him, but he was blind to that. Grabbing the dead man and lowering him to the ground, he touched his face. “Mudd?”

  “Fuck,” Piston erupted, pushing past the two men and racing after the guys who were running back to the truck parked at the end of the block.

  “Go upstairs,” I snapped to my mother, then headed after Piston. He was already ahead of me, running hard. Manuel chose the wrong men for the job, because they weren’t fast enough to get to the van before he grabbed the greasy ponytail of the first man and slammed him into the sidewalk before continuing after the other.

  By the time I reached the first man, Piston was already on top of the second, punching him in the face. I grabbed ponytail and marched him back into the club. Mom had done as I’d said and taken Emily upstairs. Pulling open the basement door, we went down the stairs and I had him tied up before he’d fully regained his senses.

  I’d never wanted to kill someone more.

  “Please,” he said, then coughed and spit blood. “We’re just the messengers.”

  “Shut up,” I snapped, driving my fist into his face. Leaving him alone in the dark, I walked up the stairs to help Jackson take our fallen brother’s body inside the clubhouse.

  It was two hours before Mudd was taken care of and Piston was calm enough to start the interrogation. The men he’d pummeled were still alive and both were bound at the same table in the basement. After seeing the mashed face of the man Piston caught second, I was surprised he was able to speak.

  “What happened?” Piston said. The two men exchanged a look, and I grabbed Ponytail’s chair and turned it so they couldn’t see each other.

  “I’ll ask again,” Piston said. “What happened?”

  Neither spoke. This was going to get worse before it got better.

  “You’re both going to die,” he said, looking down at his hands. “There’s no doubt about that. You killed a member of The Fallen.”

  “Then why would we bother to talk?” the other man said.

  “Because one of you is going to die slowly,” I chimed in. “The other one will be dead before he realizes what’s happening.”

  Ponytail started shaking, his skin pale and clammy, while the other fucker just looked confused. “Let us go and I’ll tell you anything,” he said.

  “No.” Piston’s voice rang out like a gunshot. “Not happening. Die fast or die slow. That’s the only choice you have. What happened?”

  Silence reigned for another moment, then Ponytail started babbling. “Manuel found out that the man was checking our operations. He saw the arena. He saw the women.”

  “What arena?” I asked at the same time Piston said, “What women?”

  “A lot of the workers left,” he said, spitting out another mouthful of blood. I rose to stand behind him, leaning against the wall. “Rafael’s enforcers have been defecting. We needed new people.”

  “And?”

  “He went into one of those bullshit middle of nowhere villages up in the mountains. Herded the people onto a bus. They fought in the arena. The winners stayed to work for us.”

  Manuel’s insane.

  “What about the women?”

  “You can make almost as much money from women as you can from white horse,” he said, “and Manuel didn’t see any reason to split the profits.”

  “Anything else?” Piston nodded at me and I stood up, moved to stand behind the man. He didn’t notice, because his lips were still spilling useless words.

  “No, no,” he said. “The man, he was creeping around and they killed him.”

  “Why bring his body back over the border?”

  “He was still alive coming up,” Ponytail said, hanging his head. “Got killed close, where the others are.” That meant Mudd had known what was going to happen for days before he met his end. Rage boiled through me and my fingers flexed, ready to kill.

  “What others? You failed to mention that.”

  “Figured you knew. Soliders. Word is, you’ve got the girl Manuel wants. They’re down at the flophouse in South Central.”

  Rage.

  “Near Normandie?” Piston asked. When Ponytail confirmed it, Piston nodded once. I reached out and snapped the man’s neck before he knew what w
as happening.

  “Jackson?” Piston called out. He’d forbid the man from coming to the interrogation. He and Mudd patched in together and were like blood brothers. Losing him was going to be difficult.

  He shuffled down the stairs, then straightened when he saw the remaining man.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Whatever you want. Keep him alive until we get back from South Central.”

  “Why South Central?” Jackson asked, but he was already eyeing a hammer hanging on the wall.

  “We’re going to put down a few cartel fuckers,” I said. Piston and I left him in the basement. The other man was already screaming before we closed the door.

  By the time we made it back from South Central, we were dirty, bleeding and revved up. Matthew was going to need some stitches, but everyone else made it through unscathed. It was a miracle, and we owed it to the fact that they didn’t expect us to find them so quickly.

  Good thing Ponytail had a big mouth. Ten dead motherfuckers would be a strong message to send back to Manuel.

  Piston cut off their hands.

  We didn’t just got revenge. Rebel beat valuable intel out of one of the fuckers, too. Rosaline was still alive and working at the villa. Manuel had been knocking her around a little, but she wasn’t wasted yet. Dad told me before we rode home that he figured Manuel was planning to use her as a bargaining chip with Emily, if he needed one.

  “That was a hell of a ride,” Dad said, slipping into his seat at the round table. Mom and Emily had gone out together to buy clothes or some such shit. It was the perfect time for church.

  “I’m just glad we didn’t lose anyone else.” Piston handed out drinks to the members, pouring one last shotglass for Jackson when he walked into the room. Mudd’s favorite had been vodka, so we each took a shot and toasted him.

  “To Mudd,” I echoed along with the rest of the club. He was a good man. I knew that later I’d grieve for him, but so much had happened so fast that I felt numb.

  “We’re going to party and honor our fallen brother once we make sure everyone else is safe,” Piston said, turning to my dad. “Ideas?”

  “The most important question before us is what do we do with the power vacuum?”

  “Can you dumb that down for me?” asked John, drumming his fingers on the wooden table.

  “Manuel dying is going to open the cartel up to infighting. It’s why Rafael didn’t leave years ago.” Dad quickly filled in the details for the club members who hadn’t been around. Wide-eyed shock greeted him, but not a single man disagreed with my choice to claim and protect Emily. Pride swelled, making my chest tight.

  “So just have one of us take it over,” Rebel said with a shrug. “Done deal.”

  “No,” Piston said. “It comes down to this: the Deleons honor blood before everything else. If we want to take out Manuel, we have to put blood on the throne.” The words made my gut churn.

  “There’s no one left except Emily,” chimed in Jackson. He rose and poured another shot of vodka, swallowing it before continuing. “And Manuel, of course. But that fucker killed Mudd. And…even if he hadn’t, we can’t let him kidnap women or force people to fight to the death.”

  “When we voted on him last year, we didn’t know what kind of man he was,” Piston said. “In the past year, the rate of unexplained deaths surrounding the cartel has increased. Men hanging from roadside bridges in that area isn’t uncommon. Leaving aside that removing him is the right thing to do, we’re going to have cops up our collective asses if this keeps up.”

  “Why? We’re not officially Deleon Cartel.”

  “We might as well be,” I said to my brother. “We run for them. We sell for them. We’ll be under investigation every bit as much as Manuel.”

  “There’s also Flash’s woman to think of,” said Piston. “We can’t force her to take over the cartel.”

  “Will they even accept her?” I asked.

  “I have proof of her paternity. Most of the men loyal to Rafael know me and respect me. If I say she’s a Deleon and show them proof, they’re not going to question it.”

  “What about the profit that Manuel is bringing in?”

  “Most of it is for him and his own people. The men who worked with Rafael aren’t getting a good deal anymore. I think they’ll embrace change if it’s offered.”

  “Will Emily want this?” Piston asked, looking at me. The entire room fell silent.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll talk to her tonight.”

  “If she agrees, then we go to Mexico. Bill will speak to his contacts and make sure everyone knows that Emily is the true heir to the cartel. We’ll put down any rebellion. To kick it off though, we storm the villa and Emily kills Manuel.”

  “Why Emily?” I didn’t keep the anger from my tone. “She doesn’t need to kill anyone else.”

  Dad held up a hand, stopping Piston from replying. “Because she needs to earn their respect. Rumors of her business with Dale will help, but she needs to get revenge on the man who murdered her real father.”

  “There’s no proof that Manuel killed Rafael,” I insisted, willing to grab at any weak thread.

  Dad sighed. “Rafael didn’t die a natural death. You know it as well as I do, now that you know all I know. Emily needs to serve Manuel what he’s earned or there will almost certainly be challenges to her.” He looked at me with pity. “I hope she can do it.”

  “Will she have to stay in Mexico forever?”

  “She can dismantle the cartel, but it will take years. We’ll all talk to her about it, son. Don’t want the girl going in blind.”

  Accepting the answer, I nodded and the meeting continued. Plans were firmed up to go into Mexico and get Emily to Manuel—if she agreed to the whole scheme.

  Emily

  I sipped from the hot Styrofoam cup of tea Flash’s mom had purchased for us at a kiosk in the mall, watching the lights of the city through the window of the SUV.

  “We lived on the shore for so long that it’s just strange to be further into LA,” I said, watching traffic rush by.

  “What made Dale choose Malibu?”

  “The house was secluded and cheap enough,” I told her, “and he wasn’t sure money would keep flowing like it was. The basement was large, so we could do our work there. It had good gates and natural security. I think it made him feel safe.”

  “It was safe for a long time,” she conceded, her eyes on the road.

  “Maybe for him,” I said, sinking lower in my seat. I couldn’t get the sight of that man’s body out of my mind, nor the way Flash’s face had shifted to something terrible. The rage was understandable, but no less terrifying simply because I could comprehend it.

  “Emily, I wish—.” Before she could apologize for what happened in the clubhouse again, I held up a hand to silence her.

  “It’s okay,” I told her. I meant it, even though I still felt shaken up like a mixed drink. “I don’t blame any of you.”

  “Flash did kill your uncle.” Her voice was steeped with regret, though whether it was that her son had killed or that he’d killed someone I was related to, I wasn’t sure. Probably the latter. She struck me as pragmatic.

  “Dale probably had it coming one way or another. At least it was fast.” A sick part of me thrilled at the way Flash had raised his gun to Dale not to remove competition, but to defend me. His eyes had been as stark at the sight of my blood as they were when he saw his dead friend fall through the door.

  Once I’d stopped screaming, Flash’s mom had taken me out of the clubhouse and we’d walked around the city for a few hours. Once I felt like I could, we ate soup and sandwiches at a café, watching people on their way to one place or another. Though I knew she was keeping me out of the clubhouse so the men could go about their dark purposes, I didn’t mind. It was reasonable after what had happened.

  We’d gotten carried away after stopping by the Dana Point house so I could get a few of my things. Reasoning that Dale didn�
��t need it anymore, I’d grabbed some of the money he thought was hidden. Our shopping bags filled the back of the SUV.

  “Can you forgive him?” she’d asked, looking at the empty house where I’d lived with my uncle.

  “There’s nothing to forgive.”

  “We should be getting back just as church is ending,” she said, looking away to check the clock on the dash and pulling me back into the present. “That’s good timing.”

  “They go to church on Thursday?”

  “Church is the club meeting,” she said. “No non-members allowed.”

  “But you’re married to a member.”

  “It’s not the same thing. Besides, would you really want to sit in on a meeting?”

  I thought maybe it would be fun, but I saw her point.

  “Why does your jacket say Property of Cotton?”

  “That’s Bill’s nickname,” she said.

  “Property?”

  Her grin grew. “It used to horrify me, too. But it’s a good thing. It just means that no one else fucks with you, or else they end up with The Fallen on them.”

  “If Flash and I…I mean, do I have to wear one of those?”

  Her laugh was soft and kind. “You don’t have to, but I guarantee you it’ll make my son the happiest man in the world if you do.”

  I liked the sound of that.

  Flash was pacing in the lounge when we walked through the doors.

  “Grab our bags from the car, please,” Flash’s mom said to one of the prospects I’d met earlier, winking at me before she went in search of her husband.

  “I need to talk to you,” he said and I could feel the nervous energy crackle between us. “The club has a plan that could help get Rosaline out of the villa safely and take down Manuel at the same time, but we need you to help pull it off.”

  “Anything I can do,” I said. I noticed Piston look up from the bar at my words, meet my eyes, then look away again. “Does Manuel know about Rosaline?”

  “We’re not sure. And don’t promise things you can’t deliver,” Flash said darkly. Tugging on my hand, he pulled me upstairs and into his room.